Thirty//Thirty 2014 5/30: Upon Being the First

Upon exiting the theater,
we all agree on those pivotal
moments, accentuated by
the 'ooohs' and 'aaahs,'
chatter, chasing down the aisle.
"Yes, Jared, we could tell you liked it."

The Nerdestary assembles.
Roster changing upon availability
and qualifying expertise
all variants of "Can someone watch the kid tonight?"

My mother swoops in to save the day,
and the operative is a success.
Now, we shall see if she can put him to sleep.
Two months old.
The longest we've been apart, together.

On the ride home
instead of discussion on how good the movie was
we consider the individual merits of when it may be appropriate
for inclusion in such outings.
You've one parental unit in which they're watching them at six
and another that strictly adheres to the PG-13 policy.

Comic books, waiting, bagged and boarded
in their own time capsule cryogenic chambers
to be unearthed not
before such and such a date. Reading
is an investment in our future.

We can rattle off a half dozen cartoons, followed up by the movie originals.
Netflix and DVDs make Saturday morning, a bowl of cereal whenever we please.

Dinosaurs, cars and trucks, animals.
These each have their worth,
this cannot be denied.
Yet to lose one from the grasp of nerd-dom?
Heart wrenching.

Thirty//Thirty 2014 04/30: Flipping

I journey back
through the past
few pages
and wonder:

"Where do I come up with this stuff?"

Thirty//Thirty 2014 3/30: She heard my voice and she moved

Sailor's shanties like a siren's song
compelling you
cast yourself upon the rocks.
The old albatross
is tossed, about
by wind and wave.

He reaches up like his father before him
though no child of his own
to impart his salty pearls of wisdom
but to the cabin boy.
The only one left who'll listen.

It is a tale of woe
but for the telling
of the days long gone.
Where haughty stories
once did dwell.

He loved once
a girl in port
and harbored no others
for she left him to die at sea.

Keelhauled
in the salty air
barnacles
hardening his heart.

He sits and stares
having long ago set sail
and labors listlessly.

Thirty//Thirty 2014 2/30: Feeding Time

You are dealing quite well with mommy and daddy overestimating our stay this evening.

And now, the frantic wails of infancy are in their prime.
You're growing up so fast.

Yes, it's late.
Yes, you're hungry.
Yes, we'll be home soon.

Yet these words do not soothe
and the developmental stage
upon which you deliver
your tear-stained monologue
startles the unrehearsed understudies who've yet to memorize their lines.

Missing cues and freeway exits
as safety is disregarded
blocking with the binkie before the blinking
ghostlight waiting in the wings
reminds me to fasten my seatbelt.

Thirty//Thirty 2014 1/30: Wings

I meander through the aisles, absent from the task at hand
and the list you've meticulously scrawled for me on the back of an envelope.
I neglect the SPAM and the Hamburger Helper if only because you're not here to harass.

And I see HIM standing there.
Looooong black jacket, pants, shirt and shoes.
Looooong black hair and top hat with a silver skull upon it.
Goth would be too trite, wondering if your reflection can withstand mine and call it as I see it:
Vampire works for me, and I'm haunted because I mean no malice, but it lingers regardless.

Until I see the bite mark tattoo.
Absolved of my sin, knowing I am safe,
slipping by as you mesmerize customers in search of one thing or another.
Flickering fluorescent castle catacombs of the supermarket maze.

I met you today, outside your element, the fantasy of your profession.
You need the coffee to stay awake during the day.
An egg sandwich because you're saving your pennies.
We joke of the quality of the Weis store bagels, because we buy them two departments down.
It doesn't surprise me one bit you moonlight in the meat department,
training to be certified to wield those blades.

So he's human, just like the rest of us.

Epic Beards of Review: The Garden of Darkness

Gillian Murray Kendall’s The Garden of Darkness blooms with subtlety. This post-apocalyptic young adult novel is like a little plot of land: you till in early Spring, plant your seeds and sit back to watch it grow.  In an age where these end of the world novels are shooting up like weeds, Garden blossoms and crowds out the others, soaking up the glory of the sun for itself. Sure you’ve got to water and weed it, but in the end, you’ve quite the bumper crop.

As an overburdened field suffers from loss of nutrients, we get your obligatory plague decimation—but there’s a twist: the Cure. Of course, if you happen to weather the plague and get said Cure, you’ve become a stark-raving lunatic, much creepier than being a zombie. If you’re a kid and haven’t yet succumbed to the plague, you now have to overcome the Cured and the day-to-day survival of a fallen world.

There’s a certain honesty here in the way different children handle their new-found lifestyles. It’s not just about missing their folks, it’s about how they deal. Our heroes are at times child-like, but not childish. The fact that survivors mentioned child services more than once was interesting, as were the way suicide and death in general. Much love to a character’s lethargy in response to basic hygiene. Too neat.

And although the main character wore her crush’s letterman jacket for the entirety of the novel, it acted as a tether to the former world, but not in a gooey, overly sentimental way. There is the slightest hint of love story taking place here, too, but it is deftly handled as mild flirtation.  Without the pressures of societal norms and high school drama, it allows itself to develop naturally.

Character development is spot-on as more and more hangers-on are introduced into bands. They balance well, unlike typical adventure novels where particular characters have special skill sets. Here, they just are: kids will be kids. Even the behemoth of a dog, Bear, our main character befriends early in the story, isn’t used as an easy way out of harmful situations.

Two of the more stellar plot points to note:

Not giving anything away, but there’s a grown man who deems himself “master-of-the-situation” whom is gathering children to his aid. As the book progresses, his intentions become clearer and it is compelling to see his chapters interspersed amid the novel as a parallel to our roving band of children and teens.

There’s also an aside about halfway through highlighting characters which we’ll never get a chance to interact with. As a brief interlude it was captivating to read of their ill-fated exploits in comparison to our main characters.

The ending sneaks up on you, and it’s worrisome that loose ends won’t be tied up. It was, however, clear, concise and a quite sharp way of ending things. It is beautifully wrought, and won’t be tied up in another series where you get a book and movie deal.

And so we return to the garden aspect of this book. Its shooting tendrils sprout up time and again about the pages literally and figuratively looking for a way to grow amid the darkness. There is some good fruit here, and it should be eaten of heartily.

The Garden of Darkness by Gillian Murray Kendall is due out 6/25/2014 from Ravenstone. 

Shootout at the O.K. Corral

Buy the e-book here, varmint!

Shootout at the O.K. Corral

Tumble weeds whisper

across the barren landscapes of my heart.

The ghost town stands empty,

save that last lone leper

holding on with dear life

pulling up that poisonous patch of devil grass.

Wind whipping through

the bat wings of the saloon

looking for one last shot.

Speak those words to me

amid all the excuses

back peddling

and dried up wells.

Water and oil parting ways

still panning for fool’s gold

a King’s ransom

bought and paid for

by his blood,

slipping through your fingers

like a sieve.

Bid me pick up my mat and walk.

Walk the walk and talk the talk

shake off the dust of this world

in places that are too close for comfort.

I know not how it got there.

Get out of Dodge

while you still can.

Vultures,

circling overhead

this town’s for the birds.

Keep on keeping on

the path.

one step at a time,

one day at a time.

Because over that hill

is your oasis,

maybe more desert

or just a mirage.

But at least you’re making good time.